Promises Restored
by Last of the Loneliness
Summary: With the Fire Nation royal family's dark secrets coming to light, Zuko struggles with his own guilt, his wish to be reunited with his mother, and the sister who desperately needs help.


**A/N: ...Eighteen thousand words. If I knew this was going to turn out like this, I probably never would have started writing it. **

**For newcomers, this is a sequel to my fics Promises Kept and Promises Broken; I advise reading those first.**

**Well! Here it is. I do not plan on writing anything else in the Promises verse, at least not for a really long time. I am just really, really relieved to finally be done with this monster. It was quite fun to write, especially at certain points, and I hope you'll have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!**

**So...I started writing this back in March, and it's possible, or even probable, that there are minor inconsistencies/typos/etc littering it. Additionally, I'm sorry if the characterization is wonky. I tried to keep everybody in-character as much as possible, but given that there are a lot, I don't know how well I did. Please leave a review and tell me what you thought!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Promises Restored_

One nose, as large as a toddler. Two eyes, half-covered with fur, gentle. Six enormous legs. Shaggy white fur that kept riders as well as himself warm.

Yup, Appa was pretty much the same as ever.

He was riding in his customary seat on the bison's neck, one hand loosely gripping the reins. Aang wasn't paying much attention to steering, however—he was lying on his back, staring up at the stars and attempting not to feel too worried.

He heard Katara humming from the saddle, and that familiar sound calmed him. She would have been at his side, but Aang had asked to be left alone for the time being.

He held a letter in one hand. A letter from Zuko.

Aang hadn't seen the Fire Lord in months. He, Katara, Suki, and Toph had all been in the Earth Kingdom, attempting to sort out land disputes left in the wake of the Fire Nation rescinding almost all of their conquered territory. It was frustrating, at times like this, that the Earth Kingdom had to be so divided—dozens of kings and queens, all with their own small chunks of land, all eager to claim more for themselves and their people. To a monk who hadn't visited his home in years, the necessity of it all was incredibly frustrating.

Without Katara, Aang was sure he would have broken down a long time ago.

On the one hand, finally getting away from Earth Kingdom politics was wonderful. On the other, Aang had the distinct feeling he was heading to something much, much worse.

Zuko was prone to exaggeration and melodrama; that much all of them knew from their time journeying with him. And so, for Aang, the simple plea contained in the missive was that much more frightening.

_Please come back. I need help._

And that was all.

The words were inscribed deeply—too deeply. In some places, the quill had pierced the paper, leaving a messy blob of ink. Aang imagined Zuko hunched over a desk, writing so intently that he didn't notice how deeply his pen was digging in.

There were any number of things that could have gone wrong, but Aang was trying not to think about them. Traveling with Appa and Katara was bringing back memories of their travels during the war. Ironically, Aang thought many of those journeys had been more calming, more fun.

War was easy. He fought to defeat Ozai. Now the enemy was ambition, lies, guile—a hidden threat buried deeply in the words of smooth-speaking noblemen. Politics…politics was hard.

Appa let out a low rumble, rousing Aang from his thoughts. With a careful hand on the reins, he peered over the bison's neck to see that there was land on the horizon. The island chain of the Fire Nation was coming into view.

"Katara! We're nearly there!"

She looked up from her scrolls and smiled before she saw what he was talking about. Something about the smile told Aang it wasn't entirely sincere. Perhaps she shared his worries.

"It'll be good to see him again," she called, to make herself heard over the rushing wind. "Let's just hope he hasn't gotten himself in too much trouble."

They would hope that, certainly, but Aang was worried that Zuko was in deeper than they could imagine. Ever since he had gotten the letter, worst-case scenarios had been rushing through Aang's mind. What if Ozai had escaped? What if Ozai had regained his bending? What if _Azula _had escaped? What if someone was trying to overthrow Zuko? What if…

The possibilities were endless. Aang was trying not to think about them, but long stretches of flying gave him too much time to think.

As if sensing his companion's worries, Appa grunted, huge eyes moving upward to look questioningly at Aang. The Avatar laughed, gave Appa several good scratches, and hugged his bison's head.

"I know, Appa. We'll see when we get there, and worrying won't help."

Katara clambered up to join him as they drew closer and closer to the chain of islands, as slowly the Fire Nation became more than a speck in the distance, as volcanoes and forests rushed up to meet them.

* * *

"Don't worry, Your Majesty. She'll be completely restrained and unable to hurt you. Shall we sedate her to make her calmer while you speak?"

"No!" Zuko spoke harsher than he had intended, and forced himself to take several deep breaths. "No. Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine."

The Fire Lord was walking down one of the spacious, gently-lit hallways of his sister's asylum. The white-clothed doctor at his side was short and extraordinarily thin, with a round head and no hair whatsoever.

It occurred to Zuko that he probably should have known where to find his sister's cell. He would, if he visited with any frequency, if this wasn't only the third time he had ever visited Azula while she was incarcerated.

"And you're sure you don't want her gagged? She retains the ability to breathe fire, and uses it with impu—"

"I'm sure." Zuko swallowed back bile. He didn't want to see his sister unable to speak, on top of being tied up. He remembered the last time he had been here, when Azula had arms bound in a straitjacket, chained to the wall so she couldn't lunge. Now, if they thought she was unstable, how many more restraints would they put on her?

"There is a good chance, Fire Lord, that she will have a breakdown while you speak. If she begins to lose control, we must ask you to leave immediately, for your safety and hers." The doctor came to rest, standing next to a metal-paneled door painted in a poor imitation of wood. One of his thin, spidery hands rested on the lock. Behind there, Zuko knew, was his sister.

"Yes, yes, okay," he said impatiently, waving down the man.

"I need your word, Your Majesty," the doctor said, remaining utterly unmoved. "If she breaks down, you will leave immediately."

"I will leave immediately," Zuko agreed through gritted teeth. "You have my word on my honor as Fire Lord." _Now let me see my sister._

The doctor, satisfied, removed a key from the ring on his belt, inserted it into the lock, and slowly pushed the door open. Zuko peered in, attempting to make out anything, only to be surprised when light flooded his eyes. Sunlight? But…

The room was more spacious than he had expected, and no fewer than five people were inside—nurses, guards, and now the doctor, who moved among them and made orders.

Zuko didn't immediately see his sister, so distracted was he by the sunlight streaming in through a single large window. Now he could make out the steel bars crisscrossing the inside of the glass. They kept the outside out. They kept Azula in.

And speaking of Azula…

The corner of the room was walled off to make a smaller cell. Zuko could make out a cot, a chamber pot, a small table. His sister was at the junction where the wider room met her smaller room, bound to a chair. Her arms were safely enclosed in her jacket, her feet tied to the steel legs of the chair. She looked like a prisoner, not a patient. Zuko's stomach turned over when he realized Azula was gagged, some sort of metallic contraption buckled around her face.

But most terrifying was the expression on her face, or lack thereof. Azula's golden eyes seemed dull, half-covered by lanky, unwashed hair. Her gaze was unfocused; she had given no sign of recognition when Zuko had entered the room. She had not even turned her head.

The doctor approached a nurse and muttered something to her, whereupon she walked carefully over to Azula and began unbuckling the gag. Zuko didn't fail to notice the nurse's heavy gloves.

"I want to speak to her alone," Zuko ordered, waving a hand vaguely at the staff still milling about. The doctor cleared his throat, his lips twisting into what might have been a smile.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but that really is not best, for you or for her. If she becomes suddenly violent, we would not be able to restrain her quickly enough—"

"I gave you my word," said Zuko sharply. "Out. That's an order."

The doctor bowed stiffly, unwilling to disobey his Fire Lord. Slowly, far too slowly for Zuko's taste, nurses, doctor, and guards filed out. Undoubtedly they would wait just beyond the door. Zuko hoped the doors were thick enough to prevent them hearing the conversation. He waited until he heard the key turn in the lock, and then he approached his sister.

Slowly. Slowly. He took one step after another, carefully. It was like approaching a wild animal, one who could and would lash out at any sudden movements. It was a relief to see her eyes following him.

"Azula?" Zuko spoke the same way he had stepped, slowly and carefully. She lifted her head, very slowly, and then lowered her chin in a pale imitation of a bow.

"Good morning, Father." Her voice was ragged and scratchy, totally absent of her usual confidence. She sounded very weak. Zuko wondered if she had been eating, and then thought angrily that the workers should have forced food down her throat. But even that thought was chased away by her words.

"Don't say that! I'm not—"

Azula drew in on herself very quickly, seeming to shrink. Her eyes lowered, her shoulders hunched, her knees struggled against her bindings to draw into her chest. It was horrific to watch, and it took Zuko a few long seconds to realize the emotion his sister was exhibiting.

It was terror.

"I…" Zuko realized, with guilt and shame burning in his stomach, that it was his fault. He shouldn't have lost his temper. She hadn't been mocking him—she had simply, in her fragile state, mistaken him for his father. And who could blame her? His hair was tied up with the Fire Lord's crest, and he wore all the regalia.

"It's okay, Azula. It's Zuko, not Father. It's me." Zuko carefully lowered himself to one knee, disliking the feeling of standing over his sister, looking down.

Azula showed no response. Her eyes were fixed on the corner, her breaths coming in short pants. At this rate, she was going to pass out any second now.

Her arms were tied inside the jacket; every inch of her flesh except for her face was covered. So Zuko did the only thing he could think of. He wrapped his arms gently about her slim form and pressed his cheek to her own, allowing her to feel the warped flesh of his scar, the largest distinguishing feature that differentiated him from Ozai.

Azula initially tensed, her body going rigid, before she seemed to recognize him. She relaxed, but only slightly.

"Zuko."

"It's me." Zuko drew back. He didn't want to risk Azula's wrath by extending the contact.

Her eyes had abruptly focused, regaining a hawklike intensity. Combined with the dark smudges underneath her eyes, the look was not exactly an improvement from her vague stares. But this was closer to the old Azula, and it brought Zuko a small measure of comfort.

"I was wondering when you'd show up." Her voice was now flat. Toneless. "I'm surprised it took you so long. Afraid to see me?"

"The doctors wouldn't let me," Zuko said thoughtlessly, and then immediately wished he hadn't. There were a thousand things Azula could say in response to that, ranging from how he, the Fire Lord, shouldn't be taking orders from mere doctors, to whether he honestly didn't care enough to force them to let him come sooner…

But she didn't say anything of the sort. She attempted a laugh that died out into a cough and cast her glance downward.

"I see. They thought I was too dangerous to be around. They should've just kept me gagged, and you could have talked all you wanted without fear."

Her voice had a rising edge of hysteria. Zuko watched her pupils dilate.

"No more gags, Azula," he said, moving a hand to rest on her knee. Again, she flinched at his touch, but he kept his hand there. "I'm sorry. I came to say that. I shouldn't have shut you away here. I shouldn't have used you. Azula, I _know-_"

"So what?"

The words echoed in the sudden silence. Zuko looked up, confused, into his sister's face. She was gazing down at him with an utter lack of interest.

"…Excuse me?"

"Why do I care?" Azula asked, in a tone Zuko knew all too well. If her arms were free, she probably would have been studying her fingernails.

"What do you mean? I'm apologizing to you! That's all you have to say? Come on, Azula!" Zuko couldn't stop himself from shaking her knee, and again she flinched, and again he felt the overwhelming sense of guilt. Why wouldn't she stop looking at him with those cold, unfeeling eyes? Couldn't she just accept his apology, just smile, do anything other than _stare_?

"I don't accept your apology. Now leave." She raised her head to stare blankly in front of her, no longer even deigning to acknowledge his presence with her gaze.

"Azula!" Zuko's voice was rising with anger. She still wouldn't look at him. He stood, towering over her, but her eyes still remained fixed on a point on the opposite wall. It was as if he wasn't there. She didn't respond to her name. "Look at me!"

She didn't obey. Of course not.

"Damn you, Azula! We had a deal! I let you out, and this is how you repay me? I don't want to fight with you. I came to make peace. Look at me!"

He shouldn't yell, he knew. He watched Azula's eyelids flutter, her breath come in shorter gasps. She could pretend he was not there, but she couldn't entirely block out his words. Perhaps she was imagining, again, that it was Ozai standing in front of her, shouting down at her.

"I apologize."

Her short, clipped tone took Zuko by surprise. That was the last thing he had expected. Azula was…agreeing with him?

"We did have a deal, didn't we? Very well. Father tells me that you'll find a clue to Mother's whereabouts hidden in a box of old letters."

"Azu—"

"Ask the oldest palace guard for the bear's jewelry, and he'll bring you that box." Azula dipped her head in a mocking imitation of a bow. "My hard-earned information. You're welcome."

"That's not what I meant!" Zuko was unintentionally raising his voice again, and he saw the flinch coming before it actually happened. Why did every ounce of his control evaporate around his sister? He hadn't come to yell at her. He hadn't wanted to yell at her.

_What did you expect?_ a sarcastic voice in the back of his mind inquired. _That Azula would play nice for the first time in her life, and you would go home together, and everything would be flowers and happiness? You're turning into Aang._

"Isn't it?" Azula asked. Zuko was directed away from his thoughts and stared down at his sister. Her golden eyes were so intense that Zuko had the immediate impression that he was naked in front of her, all of his thoughts and ambitions laid bare before her.

_Isn't it?_ He repeated the words to himself. Hadn't he come here to gather the information about Ursa? That was what had utterly consumed him. That was why he had orchestrated this disaster in the first place. Until he had learned several nasty truths about his sister's childhood, he had been obsessed only with his mother's whereabouts.

What had Azula accused him of? Choosing Ursa over her? And it was true, Zuko realized. He had offered his sister, not understanding the toll, not understanding what it would do to her.

Azula was the one who played with people as if they were Pai Sho tiles. But he was the one who had used her as a tool this time.

"I'm done, Zuko," she said, quietly, and turned her head so she was staring past him, for all intents and purposes appearing as if she couldn't see him.

"Azula, please. We have to talk about this." He wasn't going to break down in front of her, he promised himself. He couldn't cry in front of Azula. That was where he drew the line. Maybe that was what she wanted. Maybe she had orchestrated this entire meeting for the purpose of torturing him.

He seized onto the unlikely hope like a drowning man presented with a raft. It would be so like Azula, wouldn't it, to play games for the purpose of seeing him break down? That had to be it. It had to be.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice angry now, as he grabbed her shoulders. She winced, but maintained her distant staring, It served only to infuriate him further. "Azula, stop playing! I'm trying to talk to you! I'm not here to do—whatever it is you want me to do! Just tell me the truth!"

Her eyes, very slowly, moved once more to fix on his face. Azula was wearing an expression that he had seen on her features many, many times before, but never quite with the awful significance it carried now.

It was utter contempt.

"I've told you the truth, Zuko." Her voice was so flat as to be alien. Zuko was starting to see that the more controlled Azula's voice was, the more emotion lay under it. "But if you think I've let Father rape me to play games with you, then you're doing quite a job of lying to yourself. You're so selfish, Zuko. It's always about you. Always. Well, you've stopped believing me, so _go_. There's no blood on your hands again. _None at all. Get out of my sight."_

She sounded nearly as dangerous as their father. Zuko was alarmed by the vicious gleam in her eyes, and was reminded of the warning the doctors had given him about her tendency to spew fire at the slightest insult. He jerked out of the imagined trajectory.

Azula laughed. "You're so _paranoid,_ Zuzu. But get out. If you aren't gone in three seconds, I'm going to bite."

Bite? Bite him? It was such an absurd threat that Zuko almost laughed. It was good he didn't, for when he looked at her face an instant later, the laugh died in his throat.

Her tongue was stretched teasingly between wide open teeth. If her jaws crashed together with all force, they would sever it.

Zuko imagined his sister bleeding out, choking on her own blood. He lurched backward, frozen with shock, as he stared at her. It wasn't a threat he would have believed from the old Azula, the Azula who placed herself before everything. But now, in her fragile state, she would kill herself. She would kill herself just to toy with him, a final act of defiance.

"Three," she said, voice garbled. "Two…"

Zuko headed for the door as fast as he could manage. He managed to reach the handle and throw it open, tumbling out into the gathered doctors and guards.

His sister's laugh followed him out, as scornful and mocking as ever.

"Fire Lord Zuko?" Instantly, it seemed, Zuko was surrounded by people—doctors, nurses, and his guards. He nudged his way through the group.

"Fine. I'm fine," Zuko said. He just wanted to get away, get back to the palace, and be alone. He wanted to think about what he had just experienced. But unfortunately, his life was no longer just his own. He was the Fire Lord, and it was his duty to_ not_ show temper.

The doctors opened the door once more and disappeared into the room with Azula, who was, after all, their first priority. Zuko remained where he stood, his hands shaking. Against his will, his thoughts opened like a floodgate, bringing with them every ounce of guilt.

Only a few days ago he had shouted down Mai, insisting that Azula wasn't playing games, that this was real, and that she deserved their compassion. And now, having lost himself to anger, he had accused his sister of the same. How could he be arrogant enough to believe he knew how to help her when he couldn't even trust her? He had failed her again.

"Fire Lord, if you're ready to return to the palace, you have guests waiting." The head of Zuko's personal guard stepped forward, saluting. "The Avatar and the waterbender Katara have arrived."

Relief, sudden and welcome, swept over Zuko. Finally, an anchor in the sea of confusion in which he had been drowning. Aang would know what to do, wouldn't he? The airbender who saw the best in everyone would undoubtedly be able to help Azula. And Katara, caring and thoughtful, was always a calming presence.

Then the relief moved aside to make room for his guilt. How could he face his comrades after the things he had done? How could he_ tell_ them?

No. This wasn't the time to waver. He couldn't drown in despair, especially not now that he would have his friends by his side. He needed to channel all of Aang's excessive optimism and think clearly and evenly about what to do.

"Let's go back," Zuko agreed, trying, and almost succeeding, to ignore the guilt that was insistently flooding his stomach.

* * *

The Fire Nation's palace was every bit as excessively imposing as Katara remembered. As Appa swooped low, she was treated to a panoramic view of the building. It was beautiful, sure, but the sight of the dark red tower, edged and crowned with gold, made Katara uneasy. Rather than an architectural marvel, it seemed to her more like a hulking beast, a war machine, something getting ready to lift its squat haunches and walk.

It didn't help that the building was a representation of everything Katara had despised about the Fire Nation—its excess, its greed, its determination to build itself up at the cost of everything around it.

Still, the palace didn't hold only bad memories. She looked back fondly on Zuko's coronation and the celebrations. Her kind and open personality had won her many Fire Nation friends during the festivities, something she would have previously regarded as impossible.

Appa touched down on a grassy swathe inside of the wall surrounding the palace. Aang jumped off immediately, softening his landing with a cushion of air, but Katara stayed where she was for a few more seconds. She stretched her arms above her head. Several hours of sitting on a sky bison could certainly cramp one's muscles. Finally, she swung her pack onto her shoulder and climbed down Appa's side.

"Thanks for the ride," she murmured, stroking his long white fur. Appa grunted in response.

"Lord Aang! Lady Katara!" One of the palace guards was jogging over to them, accompanied with the sound of clanking armor. Katara didn't envy him the heavy wear on a sunny day like this one.

"Flameo, hotman! Just Aang is fine." The Avatar lifted a hand and grinned to accompany his antiquated greeting, leaving the guard looking slightly perplexed.

"And Katara." It was an enjoyable difference that people referred to them with respect instead of trying to kill them these days, but Katara didn't like the use of titles. They weren't royalty, and the labels just put them on a pedestal. "Where's Zuko?"

"In a meeting," the guard said. "I've been instructed to show you inside. Fire Lord Zuko will be with you as soon as possible. In the meantime, he says you are free to treat the palace as your own."

Katara and Aang followed the soldier across the gardens, Aang calling over his shoulder to Appa. "Did you hear, buddy? Make yourself at home! Just don't eat any of the fancy bushes."

"Do you know when Zuko will be out of his meeting?" Katara knew that Zuko's role as Fire Lord meant that he had to deal with all sorts of crises and events out of his control, but she couldn't help but be slightly put out that, after sending them a plea for help, Zuko was nowhere to be found.

Their guard stopped at the palace's front doors, where two other soldiers were there to open them. Once inside, Katara blinked in the sudden shadows.

"He left quite early this morning, so…" The guard paused to consider. "I would expect him back any time."

"Left?" Aang said. "Where did he go?"

"Ah…his meeting." The guard turned a corner, pulled aside a curtain, and led the two of them into a small, sun-filled room. There were plants everywhere; Katara took a deep breath to enjoy the scents of all the flowers. Their guard gestured at the chairs before inclining his head and backing out. "I will bring tea and food. Please wait here for a few minutes."

He left, drawing the curtain again behind him.

"Whew!" Aang flopped down onto one of the chairs and winced. The straight lines and steep angles that characterized Fire Nation furniture weren't the most comfortable. "I was sort of expecting Zuko to be there, waiting for us."

"Me too," Katara said. She moved from plant to plant, inspecting each unfamiliar specimen. After sitting on Appa for so long, she was content to stay standing. "Wonder what his meeting's about?"

"Just Fire Lord stuff?" Aang shrugged. "I'm glad it's not me."

The two lapsed into comfortable silence, Aang comfortable in the sunlit chair and fighting to keep his eyes open, and Katara tracing the veins on a large leaf and staring absently out the window.

The guard reentered a few minutes later, jolting Aang from his nap. "Er…here, your refreshments." He seemed uncomfortable to say their names if he couldn't add the titles. Katara smiled and took the tray from him.

"Thank you. I'm sure they'll be delicious."

"I'll be just down the hall. Call me if you need anything, or—" the guard shot a glance at the lounging Aang, "—if you want me to show you to your rooms."

"We will! Thanks." Katara set the tray down and poured herself and Aang a cup of tea. Also on the tray was a bowl of fireflakes and a plate of large, doughy cookies.

They had finished the tea and were most of the way through the food when Katara heard the sound of running footsteps and a jumble of voices. A few seconds later, Zuko appeared in the doorway, impatiently brushing aside the curtain.

He looked…different, and it wasn't entirely a good different. Katara noted that his eyes were slightly bloodshot, his chin was in need of a good shave, and he had a harried look about him.

"Aang! Katara! It's…so good to see you!"

The three of them shared a long hug. It was long enough for Katara to notice that Zuko barely seemed to have any substance, as if his body consisted of his robes. He hadn't been so thin before, had he?

"It's been a while, Sifu hotman!" Aang put his palm against his fist and bowed, Fire Nation style. He laughed and avoided Zuko's punch.

"Don't call me that! I'm not even your teacher anymore." It was good to see Zuko smiling, and it made him look much less stressed, but too soon his expression was fading back into worry and exhaustion. Katara hadn't seen him looking so grim since the events of Sozin's Comet.

"Zuko…" Katara rested a hand on his shoulder. "Why did you call us out here? It sounded important."

Zuko closed his eyes briefly, his brow furrowing. He massaged his temples with one hand as he looked between Aang and Katara. His lips moved a few times, as if he was attempting to say something and couldn't quite manage. Katara could feel the alarm she had tried so hard to suppress building up in her stomach.

"It's Azula," Zuko finally managed.

"She's escaped?" The question left Katara's lips before she had even thought about it. That fear was calmed, though, as Zuko shook his head.

"No. That's not it. I—I almost wish she had." The last words were a mumble, and it took Katara a few seconds to realize what he'd said.

"What do you mean?" It was Aang who spoke up, his playful joy at seeing his friend again disappearing into seriousness.

"It's nothing," said Zuko quickly. "It just would have been easier that way. I would know what to do then. As it is…I don't."

"She's still in the, uh, mental hospital, right?" Katara had difficulty saying the words. All the time they had been stalked by the Fire Princess, Katara had thought she was like her father: cold, cruel, calculating. Only in the end, during and after the Agni Kai, while Azula had writhed against the metal grate, screaming and crying, had Katara realized that there was something seriously wrong with her.

Zuko's eyes flickered down and back up again. "Yes. Yes, she is."

"What's the problem?" Aang said, exchanging a look with Katara. Zuko was being vague, unhelpful, as if there was something too dreadful to say. That _something_ hung in the air between all three of them, an invisible barrier.

Zuko took a slow, deliberate breath. "She's not getting better. I think she might even be getting worse. I want to help her, but_ I don't know how_." His voice cracked, his head hanging. Katara wanted to hug him again, but was irrationally afraid that if she touched him, he would break apart, like glass.

"I've been to visit her, but she's not getting better. She thought I was my father. She helped me. She kept her promise. But that's not good enough. She's wasting away—she's going to die in there!"

"Zuko!" Katara placed a hand on his shoulder, alarmed by the panic she heard escalating in his voice. "Calm down! You're not making sense. What promise?"

Zuko appeared to chew on his lip. He looked distraught. "I…I just want to help her, but she won't let me. What do I do? Aang, you showed mercy to my father, and Azula deserves just as much. Katara, you're the kindest person I know. Please, you have to know how to help her!"

"What exactly is wrong with her?"Aang interjected. Katara remembered that Aang hadn't had firsthand experience with Azula's madness. She had told him, briefly, about the end of the Agni Kai, about Azula, writhing and screaming, chained to a grate, but hearing about it was entirely different from experiencing it. Even now, Katara would have occasional nightmares featuring blue fire devouring her, and that unhinged laugh.

"The doctors don't know _exactly_." Zuko seemed to be calming down. He seated himself in one of the chairs, staring straight ahead, not looking at either of them. "But she's sick in the head. She has delusions, and moods, and I think she might be starving herself. They don't tell me very much."

"So what do you want us to do?" Katara asked. If Zuko was expecting a miracle, he was going to be sorely disappointed. If the best mental doctors in the Fire Nation couldn't help Azula, Katara's healing skills wouldn't do much either.

Zuko took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. The flicker of a smile appeared around his lips. "Aang, remember right before Sozin's Comet came, and you didn't want to kill my father?"

"I'm not gonna forget soon, Zuko." Katara was relieved to see the smile reappear on Aang's face. When he wasn't smiling, the world felt more dangerous. "You made fun of me, remember?"

"Yeah." Zuko cleared his throat. "But, uh, I think you might have had a point. And I think the best way to help Azula is to deal with her as a person, not as an enemy."

"You think we should just ask her what's wrong?" Aang asked, his smile faltering slightly. "And you think she'll tell…_us_?"He gestured between himself and Katara.

"I hope so. I don't think she'll tell me. Whenever I've visited, I've—" Zuko broke off, rubbing his eyes and sighing. "I just yell at her. I can't control my temper. And I don't think I can help her. I've already done too much to her. That's why I wrote to you."

Part of Katara was still objecting to the idea of helping Azula. She remembered the Fire Princess's ruthless hunt for them across the Earth Kingdom. She remembered the fall of Ba Sing Se, and Azula's cold smile as she shot down Aang. She remembered the last Agni Kai. Azula had tried to kill her, and had very nearly succeeded in killing Zuko.

But Katara still remembered the pity that had overcome her, despite herself, as she watched Azula cry after her defeat. There was something_ wrong _with the girl. She was Katara's age, but their experiences couldn't have been more different.

Katara was not a cruel person. Azula was locked away now, and unable to hurt anyone. They could help her without fear for innocent lives. But more than her pity or her mercy, what made Katara realize she needed to help Azula was the look on Zuko's face. This was desperately important to him. He wanted to help Azula. And if he asked for their help, then it was their duty, as friends, to assist him.

"I'll talk to her," she volunteered. In unison, Aang and Zuko turned, surprised, to look at her. "I'll do it. I'll try. I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

She didn't expect it when Zuko's arms wrapped around her, crushing her in a hug.

"Oh, thank you, Katara. Thank you so much."

"No—problem," she managed, though her lungs felt like they were being compressed. Zuko withdrew, smiling apologetically. He used one hand to wipe tears away from his eyes.

"Do you want us to come with you, Katara?" Aang piped up. The look of serious worry was replaced by his usual earnestness, an expression that looked much more at home on his face.

"I think I can handle myself," Katara said. "Besides, she'll be restrained, won't she?"

"They do a good job of subduing her," Zuko said. Katara didn't understand the cold note in his voice. "You'll be fine. It's not like the doctors will just throw you in and lock you in her cell with her."

They lapsed into an awkward silence. Having made the decision, Katara felt restless, jittery, feeling an anxiety she couldn't quite place. She bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Well!" Zuko stood from his chair. "Shall we go?"

"Right now? Zuko, we just landed!" Katara was sore, tired, and still on edge from all the worrying she had been doing. She didn't want to face Azula at anything less than total attentiveness. Despite Zuko's assurances, Katara was still imagining she would be facing off against a wolfbat who would take any chance to strike.

"Oh. That's right. Do you want to lie low and go tomorrow instead?" Katara wished she could ignore the way Zuko's face fell. But even if she disappointed him, Azula's mental condition wasn't going to break overnight.

"I would prefer that."

Zuko nodded. "All right. Sorry for dumping you into this, Katara. But I have to warn you—I've got meetings all afternoon, so I won't be able to spend time with you two."

"That's fine!" Aang said. "You have your duties. We know. Don't worry about us."

Zuko smiled gratefully and led them from the room.

True to his word, they didn't see Zuko until dinner. Aang and Katara spent the afternoon at the royal spa, where Katara was more relaxed than she had been in weeks. When the attendants offered a mud mask, Katara told Aang the story of Toph's trick of levitating the mud off her skin, and both of them dissolved into laughter when Aang tried it himself.

Dinner was a crowded affair; they weren't able to speak with Zuko as freely as they had hoped. With the table crowded with nobles, Katara found herself so busy answering questions that she didn't have a free moment to talk with Zuko at all. She felt the pressure to keep her lips in a smile, even as the neverending curiosity began to wear away her nerves. Yes, she missed the Water Tribes. Yes, she did like the warm weather. No, the Earth Kingdom wasn't in danger of civil war. No, she was not engaged to the Avatar…though Katara privately added a _yet_ on the end of that statement.

Mai sat at Zuko's side, but Katara noticed that the two of them didn't touch, and barely seemed to exchange any words through the whole meal. Katara would have liked to talk to Mai, but she was across the table, and Katara didn't want to shout.

Finally, the meal was over, and Katara and Aang retired to their rooms. Katara attempted to focus on the scrolls she had brought from the Earth Kingdom, poring over numbers and geographic regions, but it was useless. Her mind was elsewhere. The next day, she would meet face-to-face with one of the most fearsome people she had ever met, and part of her was sure that this mission was useless. Foremost in her mind wasn't even worry about tomorrow, however, but rather another concern that had been lurking in the back of her mind for most of the afternoon.

"Aang," she called, rolling onto her side and looking out toward the balcony, where the Avatar had disappeared. A few seconds later, Aang popped his head back into the room.

"What is it?"

"Do you think…" Katara hesitated, unsure of how to complete her question without sounding paranoid. "Do you think Zuko was avoiding us today?"

Aang walked fully into the room, his expression thoughtful. His skin stood out sharply against the shadows of the night, his tattoos seeming to glow in the candlelight.

"He's really busy with his duties, I know," Aang said. "But still, he _was_ kind of evasive when we were talking to him."

"I wonder if there's something he's not telling us?" As soon as she said the words, Katara wished that she hadn't. When the words were in her head, they seemed unlikely, paranoid. But now that they were in the air, they seemed real and dangerous. Katara trusted Zuko, but what he hid from them could be dangerous. So soon after arriving, Katara already felt threatened again in the Fire Nation, as if she was still on the run with her friends, desperately trying to stop Ozai.

She shivered; Aang, mistaking the tremor, closed the door to the balcony and joined her on the bed, one arm wrapping around her waist.

"Don't worry, Katara. We can talk to him. We aren't at war any longer. Don't be afraid. We'll get through it, all three of us."

It was a much-needed assurance. Katara couldn't hold back a smile. Aang's steady optimism was a wondrous thing to have by her side. She didn't need to worry. She was strong. Aang was strong. And Zuko was their friend. They had come to help him, and no matter what they didn't know, they would accomplish that goal.

* * *

Still, Katara's confidence couldn't help but waver as she walked toward the asylum the next morning, flanked by the asylum guards, with Aang at her side. The building was imposing in a different way from the palace, a construction that would have been beautiful but for its purpose. It was built of brick, an unusual choice in the Fire Nation.

"Has this place always been a—a—"

"A sanatorium? No, Lady Katara. It was built to house a group of nobles who opposed Fire Lord Sozin's grandfather. He had it made, supposedly, as a vacation home for them. Then, while they slept one night, his soldiers came and massacred them."

Katara shuddered. Trust the Fire Nation to leave a building with such a macabre history standing. But that explained its location outside of the crater that housed most of the capital. The building was set on low, rocky ground, surrounded by walls. Even if an inmate were to escape, there were no trees for shelter, and nowhere to hide.

Katara, Aang, and the others had ridden up in a carriage at Zuko's insistence, even though Aang had offered up Appa. The arrangement meant that they had to abandon the carriage at the beginning of this forsaken rock field in favor of trudging along over a mile of volcanic rock. The royal guards had left them at the edge of the road, in favor of these orderlies, who wore dark grey uniforms edged in gold.

The scenery would have been pretty, Katara thought, with the ocean on the horizon, and the caldera to their right, but whenever she looked up to admire the scenery, she was sure to step on a particularly sharp rock.

"I sure wouldn't want to be cooped up in a place like this for three years," Aang said. He was better-equipped than the others to handle the terrain, as a helpful air cushion softened his every step. "Why did Sozin make it into an asylum, anyway?"

The guard cleared his throat. "…The royal family of the Fire Nation has an unfortunate association with mental illness, Avatar Aang. Sozin's lady wife suffered from memory loss and paranoia in her later life, and is thought to have passed on the affliction to her second son, who died early in life under mysterious circumstances."

Katara honestly did not want to hear stories about the symptoms of mental disorders when she was just minutes away from seeing them firsthand. But the orderlies were well-informed, and she couldn't deny her interest in the stories, no matter how unsettling they were.

A different guard picked up the story now, a woman. "Not that royals were the only ones treated here. Many nobles offered up their family members as well. But its primary focus was the royalty.

"After Fire Lord Azulon's brother passed away, the family hoped the illness had died with him. But Azulon himself was unpredictable, violent, and irrational in his old age. He never was as touched in the head as his mother, but…"

Her voice trailed off, leaving the party in silence. Katara could conclude the story herself. Then Azulon had given birth to two sons, one of whom had attempted to burn an entire nation. And then there were Ozai's children, Zuko and Azula, both Fire Lords in their own time, but one kind and brave and the other—

"Open the gates!" The guard leading the pack lifted her arm to her fellows up on the wall, who shouted in recognition and drew back the heavy metal doors.

The building looked considerably less forbidding without the walls around it. For one, what vegetation the outside lacked was reproduced tenfold within the walls. Flowers and trees grew out of patches of soil every few feet. The rocky ground was paved in smooth, flat stones, and Katara made the transition gladly. Nurses pushed patients in wheeled chairs or walked with them along the paths through the gardens.

"So the patients here now are mostly nobles?" Katara said, watching an old woman with a striking resemblance to Gran-Gran hobble across the pavement. She disliked the thought of her grandmother in such a place.

"Indeed. We have nineteen patients currently in our care, twice as many nurses, a handful of experienced doctors, and thirty trained guards." The woman recited the numbers from memory, barely pausing between them. Katara looked back at the building. A hundred people, give or take, all living in this dreary, out-of-the-way madhouse.

"These gardens are really nice! Does Azula like them?" Aang asked. He seemed unperturbed by their surroundings. Of course, he wasn't the one about to meet with a madwoman, Katara thought, and then mentally shook herself. Aang had come with her in the first place because he cared. And besides, she_ had _volunteered.

"Princess Azula, er, has not yet earned the privilege of leaving her cell unrestrained, and she professes dislike to the idea of being brought out in restraints." The guard bit her lip, glancing at her fellows.

"She hasn't been outside in three years?" Aang interpreted, eyes widening. "She's been locked up here, inside, for _three years_?"

"Until re—yes. Yes, she has."

"What were you going to say?" Katara asked, noting the guard's sudden tight lips. She had been perfectly willing to talk about the history of the building, but now she had clammed up.

"I misspoke. Forgive me, Lady Katara."

Their guide picked up her pace, guiding them through the center of the gardens to approach the building's large doors. Katara thought they were wood until she got close enough to see that the wood texture had been haphazardly painted on metal. As the doors swung open, Katara had the distinct feeling that she was entering a prison, not an asylum. But then again, what was the difference?

The entryway was cool; the only light was sunlight coming through the small, barred windows, set all the way up the walls. The doors closed behind them, and Katara was forced to blink to accustom her eyes to the new lack of light.

A few seconds later, the sound of shoes clacking against the tiled floors announced the arrival of a small man with large spectacles. His form was dwarfed by the white coat that showed him to be a doctor.

"Amaya, Kyou, you're dismissed. Izan, come with us."

Two of the guards nodded, bowed to Aang and Katara, and disappeared down one of the corridors. The third, the woman, remained with them.

"The Avatar and the waterbender Katara, I presume?" The doctor's voice was clipped, overly polite. Katara preferred the title "waterbender" to "lady," but the way he said it still made her feel uncomfortable. "Good day. Fire Lord Zuko sent ahead a messenger hawk. I am Takumi, the princess's primary doctor. Follow me."

Startled by his abrupt manner, Katara exchanged a look with Aang before following Takumi, who was surprisingly fast for being so small.

"I must deliver instructions and warnings before you meet with her, Katara." Despite the lack of a title, the doctor managed to convey all the necessary respect simply with his tone. "Truth be told, the princess should not be receiving visitors today, but the Fire Lord insisted."

"What's wrong with today?" Aang asked. His voice echoed, too loud, in the confined walls of the building.

"Having visitors two days in a row is an undue amount of stress given the princess's fragile state," said Takumi. He turned a corner, revealing another stretch of long corridor.

"What? Who was here yesterday?" Katara said.

"Fire Lord Zuko," Takumi said. He stopped walking for the first time, turning to face them. His face was even sterner than usual. He removed his spectacles, making his eyes even more piercing. "He did not tell you, I take it."

"No, he didn't," said Katara. She was starting to feel angry with Zuko. She had _suspected_ he was hiding something, but what need did he have to hide this from them? They had come to help Azula, and his visiting Azula seemed like critical information to assist that endeavor. All those mentions of Zuko being at a meeting, and nobody bothered to mention that he was meeting his unstable, murderous sister? There was something else happening here, and what she didn't know was starting to seem more and more threatening.

Takumi sighed very deeply. "It is not my duty to divulge information the Fire Lord wishes to keep secret. If he has not told you about his visits, it will not be I who gives away his secrets. My concern is for my patient. Do you still wish to see her?"

Katara looked at Aang, who smiled and slipped his hand into hers.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he said. "We can go talk to Zuko and come back another day. We can leave right now."

Katara felt her nerves calming just from looking at his smile. He was right. She could turn her back on this, drawn into Zuko's web of secrets, and leave. But now that he had voiced the option aloud, Katara knew that she wouldn't. "We came all the way out here," she said, speaking to Takumi as well as Aang. "I'll see her."

Takumi nodded, though his face refused to lose its stress. "Very well. Then I must advise you on your conduct. The princess is unstable, and you must take care while talking to her." He turned, leading the way once more. "Do not threaten her. Do not insult her. Do not discuss Ozai, Mai, or Ty Lee, unless she breaches the topic. Do not discuss her mother under any circumstances. She will be restrained. She will not be able to hurt you, but she can still likely hurt herself."

Takumi paused. Katara was welcome for the break, as her mind was still attempting to interpret the information he had just given her. The doctor spoke as if reciting from a textbook, making it extremely difficult to pay attention.

"Do not provoke or get angry at her. I understand this may be difficult. I understand that you are former enemies. But now, she is in need of _help_."

They had reached the door at the end of the hallway, where an additional two guards joined them. Takumi lifted a set of keys from his pocket.

"This isn't the princess's cell, but a visiting cell we've built. You will enter through the front, and a wall of glass will separate you from the princess. There is another door in the back where I and the orderlies will enter."

"I won't be speaking to her alone?" This was news to Katara. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. Certainly Takumi's level, analyzing stare would do little to help her feel at ease while she spoke with Azula.

"Of course not. That is a privilege reserved for the Fire Lord." Takumi turned to face them once more. His voice, previously cold, became positively hostile. "I do not know what your purpose is, or what Fire Lord Zuko wants with my patient. But I will not allow you to harm her, emotionally or physically. I do not care about rank. I do not care that you are the Avatar. My priority is Princess Azula, and I will not hesitate to thwart your plans if you intend to exploit my patient."

If Katara had felt uneasy before, she now felt threatened. She looked from the doctor to the guards and felt as if none of them were on her side. Then she felt angry, indignant. She had come to help Azula, not hurt her. Why was this man defending the princess so passionately anyway? Katara wasn't the one who went around shooting people with lightning.

Aang stepped forward, keeping a calming hand on Katara's shoulder as he faced the doctor. "Don't worry. Katara is a good person. We're here to help Azula. Whatever you're worried about, don't be. Just give us the chance."

Takumi bowed his head, though his face remained unchanged. He silently gestured toward the door, and Katara stepped forward. Having been given the moment to herself, she now saw the doctor's warning for what it was. He was a mental healer, in the same way that she was a physical one. Just as Katara would prevent someone from hurting someone she was healing, so would Takumi do his best to prevent others from harming his patients mentally.

"It'll be okay, Katara," said Aang encouragingly. Katara tried to return his smile but couldn't quite manage. She stepped forward as Takumi brought forth a ring of keys and inserted the correct one into the lock. It turned, clicked, and the heavy metal door slid open.

Katara stepped inside. The rumble of the door closing behind her made her feel as if she was being entombed. As goosebumps rose on her skin, she looked around the cell.

It was dark, unlit but for a small window high up on the wall. All four walls were reinforced metal. Katara stepped slowly forward, her eyes reluctantly alighting on the far side of the glass wall that protected her. There was no furniture but a single chair.

Azula's golden eyes seemed to burn out of her pale skin. Katara took in the lank, dark hair, the emaciated form, the straitjacket that restrained Azula's arms and the chains that bound her feet to the chair.

"…_You._"

Her voice made Katara's skin crawl. It summoned memories of Azula's callous, unhinged laughter during their last meeting, her taunts, her sobs.

_Oh, I'll show you lightning!_

Katara steeled herself. She had no reason to be afraid. Azula was behind glass, restrained, no danger to anyone but herself. And Katara wasn't here to fight. She was here to at least attempt to make peace.

She was saved from having to make an immediate response when the door in the back of the room slid open. Takumi entered with two orderlies; all three silently stood against the back wall as the door closed again. Azula did not spare them a single movement. Her eyes remained fixed, hawklike, on Katara.

The presence of the asylum staff made Katara much less comfortable. One hand reached up nervously to play with her mother's betrothal necklace. "You remember me?"

"Would you forget the person who destroyed your life?" Azula asked, lifting her head slightly, throwing her features into light. Katara was startled by how sallow her skin was, how clearly her bones stood out against her form. This was not the confident Azula who had tracked them across the Earth Kingdom, or the unhinged creature who had attempted to kill her. This person was sunken, sick, almost invisible but for those horribly bright eyes.

Katara swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," Azula snorted. "Everything turned out how you wanted, didn't it? Look at you. The peasant's wearing robes and the princess's wearing rags. What did you say to me, that day? _You're going down?_ And look how far down I've fallen."

"I meant I'm sorry to see you like this!" Katara raised her voice until she saw Takumi, in the back, raise a hand in warning. She fought to keep her tone level, as hard as it was. "I didn't want _this_ for you, Azula. Please believe me. I had to stop you because you and your father were hurting people—you tried to destroy a whole nation! You tried to kill Aang! It wasn't—it wasn't _personal_."

Katara saw Takumi's slashing signal far too late and remembered, abruptly, that she had been instructed not to mention Ozai. She bit her lip, hoping Azula wouldn't notice, hoping she wouldn't be thrown out for the mistake.

"And how _is_ your relationship with the Avatar?" Azula drawled. "I suppose you're already married, a brood of lovely little airbenders on the way."

"Don't talk about me and Aang," Katara said. She had to force herself to take a deep breath, calm down. Why was this woman so adept at getting a reaction out of her? How were they supposed to have a productive conversation when Azula deflected everything with barbs and insults? "…Er, how are you?"

It was a horrible transition, Katara wanted to kick herself for that. She probably sounded like one of Azula's doctors, who obviously hadn't had any success with that method.

"I'm lovely," Azula said. "Wonderful. Couldn't you tell? I've been eating, and exercising, and bathing regularly. The doctors expect me to make a full recovery! Now go report that back to Zuko and _leave me alone_."

Katara looked at Takumi, who remained impassive. No matter; Katara didn't need confirmation that everything Azula had just said was a pack of lies.

"Zuko's worried about you. And seeing you, I can understand why. Aren't you _trying_ to get better? Don't you want to be _free_ again?"

For the first time, Azula's perfectly calm façade flickered. The hint of a sneer curled her lip upwards, her brow furrowing. Then it was gone.

"You're wasting your time, water peasant. I gave Zuko all the information he needs. And I'll be perfectly fine if I'm left alone. Keep him away. _Keep him away from me_." Azula's hands jerked against her cuffs. She began shuddering, head bowed. Takumi gestured one of the orderlies, who stepped forward with a syringe in hand. Before it became necessary, however, Azula stilled herself. "Leave. I won't see him again. You can't make me. Not you, or Zuko, or the Avatar himself."

"What?" Katara frowned. She had assumed that Azula had been talking about Zuko, but her last sentence seemed to indicate otherwise. "You won't see who again?"

"Stop pretending you weren't a part of it!" Azula hissed. "You and Zuko and the Avatar and the rest of your little friends sat around, plotting how to find Zuko's mommy and get Azula hurt in one fell swoop, didn't you? And now you're here to rub it in my face. Well, you've done that. Now _get out_!"

"Azula, I have no idea what you're talking about," Katara said imploringly, stretching her hands wide. Surely someone as adept at lying as the princess could at least tell when people were telling the truth, or had she lost that ability when her mind crumbled? "What does this have to do with Zuko's—your—mother?"

Azula's eyes seemed to bore hole straight into Katara's mind, as if she could see every thought. And slowly, the expression of pain and anger shifted, and a slow, malicious smirk took its place. On the sunken planes of Azula's face, the smile looked equally as demonic as her anger had.

"You mean Zuzu _didn't_ tell you? None of the doctors told you? He sent you here knowing _nothing_?"

Katara stood, frozen, unsure of what to say. She felt trapped. Trapped by what she knew, trapped by what she didn't. What was Azula talking about? Was this the reason for Zuko's strange, elusive behavior? Azula knew his secret, but the Fire Lord couldn't be bothered to tell his friends?

Azula laughed. The sound echoed in the tiny space until Katara was surrounded by the noise. She pressed her hands to her ears, but the laughter still grated on every nerve she had left.

"_What's so funny_?" Katara finally managed, making herself heard over Azula's cackling.

The princess closed her mouth, tilting her head to study Katara. The smile still played around her lips, but she seemed calmer, more thoughtful. Katara didn't want to consider what that might mean. A thinking Azula was a dangerous Azula.

A few seconds passed before Azula seemed to decide what she wanted to say.

"…Katara, have you ever had sex?"

Katara was first taken aback by Azula's use of her name. She hadn't realized Azula even knew it. But of course she would. Azula always knew everything about her prey, the better to whip out the information and use it as a weapon in times like this.

But the question itself was so bizarre that it drove all other thoughts far from Katara's mind. What could be farther from the cold animosity of this cell than _sex_?

"Excuse me?" Katara blurted. She couldn't think of anything else to say.

Azula's eyes gleamed. "Had intercourse. Copulated. Fucked. How else shall I say it?"

"I'm not telling you that," Katara said. She took a few steps backward, as if the additional distance would protect her from Azula. Unbidden, images came to mind of her and Aang and long nights, lingering kisses, and skin on skin. No way was she about to broach that topic with Azula. "That's not what we're talking about!"

"On the contrary, it's exactly what we're talking about," Azula said. Her smile was still in place, but it was harder now, almost flinty. "I'm telling you what Zuko hasn't told you."

Katara's mind raced in an attempt to put together the few pieces she had. Zuko's secret had something to do with sex? Was he having an affair? How could Azula have found that out?

"I didn't come here to play games with you, Azula! Tell me what's going on with Zuko." Katara's voice came out more harshly than she had intended, and she instantly regretted it.

Azula rolled her eyes. "Going on with Zuko? Not everything is about him, you know. We're talking about me. Unless you'd rather talk about my brother, of course."

So…Azula and sex? That was an even more alien thought. She had been locked up for three years. Katara didn't think mental therapy would allow much time for conjugal visits. And besides, whom did Azula _have_? Katara had the distinct impression that Azula had never been close to anybody, romantic or otherwise.

"You asked me if I had ever…slept with someone. Have _you_?" Katara asked quietly.

Azula's smile widened. "You're asking better questions now." She looked over her shoulder as far as she could while still bound to the chair, craning her neck to look back at the doctor. "Take off my restraints."

Takumi's mouth curved slightly downward. "Princess, you are not allowed to go unrestrained while in company. You know that."

Azula sighed. "I'm not going to hurt anyone. Do I seem unstable? If you must, just let my arms free and keep my legs tied. I haven't hurt any visitors before. Don't I deserve that privilege? Just a _minute_. I want my _circulation_ back." There was a snarl embedded in the words.

Takumi still seemed reluctant, but he gestured the orderlies forward. One held the syringe, presumably filled with some sedative or tranquilizer, aloft where Azula could see it. It was a clear message: one wrong move, and she would be out.

The other bent to unbuckle Azula's straitjacket. Strap by strap came undone, until the princess's arms fell free. There were still handcuffs attached to her wrists; the orderly produced a key and unlocked them, swiftly stepping back. The two did not retreat back to the far wall, but remained within arm's reach of Azula.

As Azula slowly began moving her arms, surveying her hands and fingers, shaking out her wrists, Katara was reminded of exactly how deadly this woman was. She could undoubtedly strike down the orderly before he could get the needle into her skin, and then move on to the rest of them. With her prodigious strength, it might take only a few seconds for her to kill everybody on the far side of the glass.

Katara almost spoke out a warning, almost implored them to restore Azula's restraints, but she held herself back. Azula would definitely not take that well. Besides, what she had said seemed true. Even if she did break free, there was the Avatar waiting outside. So instead of speaking out, Katara bit her lip and tried not to look as worried as she felt.

Her midsection and arms free, Azula stood. Her ankles were still chained together, and they were chained to the chair, but the length of the chain offered a small measure of mobility, a fact that was not lost on Katara.

Azula took a long breath, staring over Katara's head, and then reached for the hem of her shirt.

Katara didn't know how to react. She hadn't been expecting this. Granted, nothing whatsoever had gone how she had expected since she had entered the cell. Not knowing what else to do, Katara simply stood and watched while Azula pulled the shirt over her head, leaving it discarded on the floor. Her breasts and waist were still obscured by a simple undergarment, until Azula's fingers moved to untie the laces there too. Finally, her pants hit the stone.

Katara couldn't help the blush that spread over her cheeks, which was undoubtedly what Azula had aimed to accomplish with this ridiculous display. Well, Katara wasn't going to play along. She cast her eyes upward, offering Azula a small measure of privacy.

"No. Look at me. _Look_ at me." Azula's voice was compelling, commanding, and Katara's eyes slid back down. She looked at Azula's skin, trying not to let her eyes wander indecently, until she saw something strange.

Katara blinked. She looked harder. Then, indecency forgotten, she_ looked _at Azula.

And she _saw_.

Katara was no stranger to burns, cuts, and bruises. All three were easy to accumulate while on the run from the Fire Nation. Her own body was littered with small wounds from the many battles she had fought while traveling alongside Aang. But Azula's scars…were different.

They concentrated on her breasts and upper thighs, small, clean lines that looked almost intentional. They were accompanied, spastically, with the wrinkled, pale skin that was the sign of a healed burn. But those scars, while mystifying, were not what drew Katara's attention. It was the bruises, dark bruises, spreads of purple-green. Her hipbones were painted with them. Across her upper thighs, the bruises were lighter, but had a familiar shape, a shape that made Katara swallow hard—a hand. Azula's waist, too, was bruised, as were her breasts. Upwards of her collarbone, neck and shoulders were decorated with countless small bruises that Katara couldn't help but identify.

It looked as if the court painter had flung buckets of dark paint at the princess, so distinct were the marks. For a few long seconds, Katara could do nothing but stare.

Had Azula had _sex_? This didn't look like that. This looked precisely like someone had pinned Azula down and…Katara's imagination filled in the blanks where her mind didn't want to go. She swallowed, hard, and moved her eyes up to look at Azula's face.

"What happened to you? Azula, did someone—" Katara absurdly lowered her voice, her gaze flickering to the doctor and his companions. "Are they abusing you?"

Another change came over the princess then. She glanced down at her body and then looked away, quickly, biting her lip. She leaned over to collect her clothes and threw them back on her person. Her movements were hasty, erratic. She let the orderlies buckle her back in the chair, but it did not escape Katara's notice that Azula was shaking.

"—I shouldn't have—I didn't—I'm sorry," Azula said, her eyes wildly swinging about the cell. Katara had the distinct impression that Azula was addressing someone not present; why on earth would the fire princess apologize to her? "You're wrong. It's not like that. I was just playing games with you." These words were directed back at Katara now, delivered in a dull tone.

And Katara knew that the princess was lying.

"Azula, it's safe. You're safe. You can tell me. I'm here to help you. Please, if someone's hurting you, I'll put a stop to it. If you've been raped-"

"I volunteered." Azula said it flatly, blankly. She was back to avoiding Katara's gaze. "So foolish. I thought I could—use it against him. I thought I was strong enough. I—I was an idiot."

In the back of the cell, Takumi took a step forward. His brow was furrowed, a look of clear concern on his face. Perhaps this was also the first he had heard about it. Katara didn't understand. Who could have such an effect on Azula? Katara had always thought that Azula was fearless, the kind of person who dominated, not who was a victim. Now that perception was being challenged, and challenged hard.

"Azula, who are you talking about?" Katara tried to keep her voice calm, soothing, but half-worried that Azula would take it as patronizing. "Who did this to you?"

"Princess, did this happen the evening Fire Lord Zuko took you from the asylum?" Takumi asked, speaking up for the second time.

"Zuko took her out?" This, too, was news to Katara. Was there anything Zuko had been honest about, she was starting to wonder? The secrets were piling up, and she was already thinking of a collection of choice things she would have to say to him when he next saw her.

"The day after she returned, her hallucinations were worse. We had to sedate her to prevent her hurting herself. Fire Lord Zuko didn't provide us with an explanation, and the princess wasn't in a fit state," Takumi said, seemingly reluctantly. "Now I see why. Princess Azula, where did Fire Lord Zuko take you?"

Azula took a deep breath. Her eyes were wide, staring. She didn't seem to mind being spoken about, which led Katara to suspect that the doctors frequently discussed her as if she wasn't there. What a disgraceful thing, to be treated like a laboratory animal.

"He took me to Father," Azula said, her calmness eerie. "And Father—_got what he wanted_."

Katara half-expected the sounds that tore from the princess's throat then, as Azula doubled over, her face hidden behind a curtain of black hair. Half-screams, half-sobs, Azula was no longer coherent. It was almost exactly like reliving the Agni Kai, years ago, when Azula had screamed and cried in her defeat. But this time, Katara's horror was a hundred times worse.

She watched as one of the orderlies stepped forward and placed the syringe to Azula's neck. Within a few seconds, Azula slumped over, silenced for the time being, in a rest more peaceful than the chaotic battlefield of her mind.

Katara couldn't stop staring at Azula. She couldn't stop from imagining the vast map of bruising and scars she had seen across the princess's body. The imagery was a thousand times more graphic now that she knew who had put the injuries there.

Ozai.

Katara's fists clenched at her sides. Was there no end to the man's cruelty? Not satisfied with waging war against the entire world, he had to wage war against his daughter? Such an unholy coupling made Katara nauseous at just the thought. So he had to leave his mark on both of his children? And even after the war ended, after all of his power was stripped, he had still been allowed to dominate his daughter?

Katara turned to the door of the cell, throwing it open and striding back out into the light. How had Zuko allowed this to happen?

She was going to have words with a certain Fire Lord, and she was going to get _all _of the answers Zuko had declined to give her.

* * *

Several miles away, two hours earlier, the Fire Lord in question sat alone on his balcony, wallowing in all of the things he had kept to himself.

Zuko wanted to hit himself. How had he let them go without telling them? Now Aang and Katara were on their way to see Azula, and there was no way that she wouldn't tell them. And if they heard the story from Azula's lips, it was bound to be a thousand times worse than—

_Than what? _a voice in his head questioned. _Than the truth? Than the fact that you whored your unstable sister out to your father for your own benefit? _There was no potential way to twist the story that made Zuko's actions any more excusable.

He was trying to keep the mental images at bay. Ever since he had been to see Ozai in that accursed prison, Zuko had barely slept. Even while awake, it seemed as if graphic images were determined to flash across his mind so frequently that they had almost imprinted on his eyelids.

It was always Azula, young Azula, with Ozai bending over her or touching her or doing unspeakable things—the visions were enough to make Zuko want to vomit. And the look on his father's face, the readiness with which he had admitted his transgressions—Ozai wasn't sorry at all. Even now, at a distance from the man, Zuko felt anger burn from a well deep inside of him. The next time he took a sip of tea, it was scalding, and he yelped, almost dropping the cup. He had heated it without realizing.

Perhaps it was the images that had prevented him from telling Aang and Katara. How could he tell anyone about horrors that churned his stomach whenever he began to think about them? Even now, in the light of day, he felt heavy, burdened down by his knowledge.

He deserved the guilt.

But another part of his mind, insistently, had not forgotten the information Azula had given him. The origin of this entire mess had been his desire to search for Ursa, and now she was closer to reach. There was no harm in doing as Azula had instructed, following this lead, was there? He could always wait until she was more stable to actually bring her along on the search, as promised.

Resolute and abruptly having made up his mind, Zuko put his tea down and stood. Inaction would not change what he had done or not done. He might as well follow up on the only lead he had to his mother. In the end, Ursa would probably be able to do more for Azula than he would anyway. Zuko had not been raised in an environment that cultivated love toward his sister. Even now, he suspected that his horror for her sake was pity, not empathy. She was still the prodigy, still the fearsome menace who had attempted to take his life multiple times and left a heinous scar across his chest. It was difficult for Zuko to reconcile the pieces of Azula in his mind. The girl with whom he had grown up had shattered into something darker and more chaotic.

But slowly Zuko was realizing that the other part had been inside of Azula all along. She had just been an expert in concealing it.

And now this. The little sister who had teased him, who had played with him, had been the subject of a different sort of game at their father's whim. The images could not reconcile. The new Azula, the childish victim of Ozai's abuse, appeared to Zuko as a motionless waif, a girl who could not defend herself. The concept went against everything he knew about his sister. The pieces did not fit together.

But perhaps the other pieces would. If dwelling on his guilt and Azula's pain had no results, then he would continue on the path Azula had given him.

His servants bowed to him as he left his chambers, and he nodded to acknowledge them. Outside in the hall, his guards saluted, but the one Zuko sought was not there.

"Do you know where I can find Katashi?" he asked. The guards, startled at being addressed by their Fire Lord, glanced at each other.

"He's usually working with recruits, Fire Lord Zuko!" one reported. "I would check in the barracks and training grounds."

"Right. Thank you." Zuko hurried off in the direction their words had sent him, as if moving faster would leave all his fears and worries behind him.

The military compound was not within the palace walls, but directly adjacent. The compound housed the military school, as well as a barracks. It had been lively, full of activity, during Ozai's time as Fire Lord, since there had always been a need for new soldiers. In the aftermath of the war, however, the Fire Nation had been forced to disarm, left with only a small army and a navy so tiny as to be practically useless. Zuko had resisted this in negotiations, but the Earth Kingdom was so split with internal torment that it was definitely not going to be waging war soon. Besides, if his nation was under siege, Zuko could probably enlist the Avatar's aid, a better help than ten thousand armies.

The size of the military academy had been reduced to a fraction of its previous glory, but the grounds still seemed plenty crowded to Zuko as he walked along the stone-paved paths. At the sight of the Fire Lord (and his two guards trailing behind, because they were insistent he shouldn't go anywhere alone), the cadets stared and hastily bowed. Zuko held up a hand to acknowledge them, feeling terribly awkward.

The training grounds within the compound were familiar to a host of sounds Zuko knew well: the clash of metal on metal, the _whoosh_ of firebending, the _thunk _of spears or arrows hitting their targets. Overseeing the exercises was a tall man, completely bald, his skin wrinkled and covered in brown spots, but his eyes still very bright. He turned and bowed at Zuko's approach, and the Fire Lord noticed that the man had plenty of hair on his chin to make up for the lack of it on his head, though it was all feathery and white.

"To what do I owe the honor, Fire Lord Zuko?" Katashi straightened up again, and Zuko found himself surprised by the old man's agility.

Zuko looked around. There was nobody standing near them aside from his guards. The cadets training in the yard quickly looked away when they saw Zuko looking their direction. Just to be safe, Zuko took another step closer to the man.

"Er, would I be right in assuming that you are the oldest member of the palace guard?"

Katashi looked taken aback, but he quickly smiled. "Ninety next year, Fire Lord Zuko. Though I do more in the way of working with the young ones than guarding these days. Why do you ask?"

"I…I need to ask you for…" Zuko swallowed. The words were difficult to spit out; they sounded more like an inane, childish code than anything serious, and he wondered not for the first time whether this was all just an elaborate prank of Azula's. "The bear's letters?"

Katashi's eyes widened, and his face slowly settled into lines of sadness. After his smile, it was a disconcerting change. "Lady Ursa. I…I didn't know anybody knew about them. I was supposed to keep them safe for her. How did you find out?"

Zuko didn't want to admit that Ozai had apparently known about this plan all along, thus rendering the old guard's work useless. "That's not important. Please, can you show me the letters? It's important. I intend to find my mother, and those may hold the key."

Katashi appeared to struggle with himself before answering. "Lady Ursa entrusted me with those and ordered me to never tell a soul. She provided no exceptions." Probably seeing the look on Zuko's face, he continued before Zuko could speak. "_However_, I trust you. You love her, and you will know what to do with them. I will give them to you."

Zuko pressed his lips together. "…Thank you."

Katashi led the way out of the training grounds and into the barracks. Zuko was surprised. He had expected the letters to be hidden in the palace. But if Ursa had suspected that Ozai was watching her, taking them out would have been a safer plan, he supposed.

Cadets and fully trained guards bowed and saluted Zuko and Katashi as they walked together through the halls. The old guard's room was on the third floor, which surprised Zuko. Maybe Katashi kept in shape by taking the stairs every day, but it was amazing his knees hadn't been utterly worn down by now.

The room was simple and sparse in the extreme, a far cry from the luxury of the palace. Katashi wasted no time in crossing the small space and bending down to root under the mattress of his cot. A few seconds later, he stood up again, holding a box.

"I put them in here for safekeeping. Take them and put them to good use. Bring Lady Ursa home. She deserves a home again after all these years."

Feeling awkward and slightly sad, Zuko accepted the box and bowed to the man. Katashi's face lit with surprise, and then he smiled once more.

"You will do much more good for the country than your father, Fire Lord Zuko."

* * *

Mai could not remember a time when Zuko was free of his family.

Even when they were children, playing innocent, foolish games, she saw the power his father held over him. She saw Azula's teasing, occasionally devolving into something darker. Mai had been there before Zuko had become the brooding, exiled prince. Even before that, though, he had always been eager to please and hard on himself. She had thought, even then, that Zuko could mature into a man his father could be proud of, if only Ozai was willing to be patient with his son.

But Ozai was not a patient man, and Zuko was not as adept as Mai at locking his emotions away and keeping himself controlled. They all knew how that story ended, with Zuko on his knees and a vicious scar across half of his face.

Mai had not been able to help Zuko then, but she intended to do everything in her power to help him now. It sickened her to see that the poisonous claws of his family were still reaching out of the past to harm him. But equally concerning was Zuko's newfound secrecy. He had gone to see Ozai and Azula without telling her. Mai knew it was because he thought she wouldn't approve—and she wouldn't, for good reason. He always returned from the meetings agitated, dark thoughts swirling in his mind. Mai was not going to stand idly by and watch while Ozai twisted his son from behind bars.

Azula was a more complex puzzle.

Mai wanted to hate her. She thought of Azula's attempts to kill Zuko, how Azula had used her and Ty Lee and even come close to murdering her. A lot of Azula's actions were difficult not to hate. Mai knew that was what the world saw. Mai knew that the Earth Kingdom's nobles were muttering about why the Fire Lord had been stripped of his bending when his daughter remained as deadly as ever.

Perhaps what infuriated Mai most about Azula was that she couldn't hate the princess, not completely. More than anybody else, except maybe Ty Lee, Mai had seen the glimmers of something human inside Azula. It was hard to grow up alongside someone and not see at least a little bit of good in them. Ozai had tortured his daughter in different ways. Mai remembered Azula's late nights studying, her need to impress her father, her fear of failure. Whatever cliff Azula had fallen off of, it was Ozai who gave her the push over the edge.

This new information only made the struggle more difficult. At first, Mai had hidden her surprise, hidden all of her emotion, in favor of comforting the distraught Zuko. But with time to think of it, she grew steadily more and more agitated.

She thought of the younger Azula, the Azula she might truly have called a friend. Had Ozai already been abusing her then? Had he started before Ursa's disappearance? The same images that clouded Zuko's brain had troubled Mai too. She remembered, in acute detail, the first time she had seen Azula after the failed invasion on the day of the eclipse—after the day of Zuko's betrayal. Azula had been pale and shaken, her eyes half-mad. She had cursed Zuko more than once, making no secret of her desire to slaughter her brother. Ty Lee had asked her where she had gotten the bruises.

"_Father punished me." _It had been left at that.

Had those punishments, Mai wondered now, been more physical than she had initially envisioned?

Mai had been having more success than Zuko in keeping the memories and images at bay; she had strict control over her mind and emotions, after all. But still, she couldn't help but linger on them, wonder about them.

Whatever had been done to her did nothing to excuse Azula's actions. The princess had still been complicit in the deaths of hundreds. Had Ozai succeeded, that number would have risen to tens of thousands. Azula was manipulative, cold, and cruel. She took pleasure in the pain of others. Yet she was mentally unsound, abused, and now utterly friendless.

Mai had picked her sibling. She loved Zuko and would do whatever it took to protect him. If his relationship with his sister was going to end up hurting Zuko, Mai would have to end it before it could come to that. She would not let Azula manipulate Zuko. She could not waver in that decision. Mai had taken a solid stand against Azula to defend her lover.

She was relieved that Katara and Aang had been summoned to help out the situation. If they could deal with Azula, Zuko wouldn't have to get hurt.

As the afternoon drew on, Mai found herself anticipating Katara and Aang's return, despite herself. She wanted to know exactly what commentary Azula would have on the whole situation, even though she would have to hear it through the filter of another person's mouth and mind.

She found Zuko in the shadows of their shared quarters, holding a cup of lukewarm tea and staring at nothing. He didn't even seem to notice when she came in, so Mai took advantage of the situation by slipping behind him and running her thin fingers across his chest. That roused Zuko. He turned quickly, and Mai caught his lips in a kiss.

She could feel all the stress and tension in his body underneath her fingers, and it worried her. The situation with Azula was too much on top of his current political nightmares. Sooner or later, he was going to have a breakdown.

"Hi," Zuko said, breaking the contact. For the first time, Mai noticed the small box in his lap. "I thought we weren't talking."

"I wasn't talking." Mai's lips curled slightly upward. Somehow, no matter how used she had gotten to suppressing her emotions, it was always very easy to smile when she was around Zuko. Maybe, selfishly, that was what she loved the most about him—his capacity to bring her happiness in her usually grey world. "What's in the box?"

Zuko looked down and sighed. "Letters. Letters my mother wrote and received. They're…I think they're the key to finding her."

"That's wonderful! Zuko, that's…!" Mai trailed off. While she was happy at his discovery, since she knew exactly how much Ursa mattered to him, Zuko didn't seem enthused. "What do you mean, you _think_?"

"I haven't actually read them yet." Zuko rubbed his eyes with one hand, an action that made Mai realize just how tired he looked. It had been weeks since he had gotten a good night's sleep.

"What are you waiting for?"

Then Mai sighed, and even before the awkward look came over Zuko's face, she realized that it had been a stupid question. She knew what he was going to say.

"Azula," they said in unison. Zuko dropped his gaze away from Mai as if unwilling to meet her eyes. Mai gently took his head in her hands and guided his face back toward her.

"Zuko, you don't have to be ashamed of it."

"I know you don't approve, Mai, and you think it's crazy and I'm crazy and it would be best if I just never visited her but I just can't leave her locked up in there when I've helped to hurt her further please I can't fight with you too," Zuko said, stopping at last to breathe, overcome by the flow of words.

"Zuko. Slow down. Look, I've given it some thought, and I'll support you."

She saw the hope and relief in his eyes as he looked up at her, and the emotion meant the world to her.

"Really?"

"Really," Mai said. "Helping Azula is important to you. I get that. It's obvious you won't sleep easy until you've tried to resolve things with her. But if she does anything to hurt you—if she even thinks about hurting you—I won't forgive her."

"Mai, thank you so much." Zuko caught her up in her arms. Mai, initially startled, slowly relaxed into the hug. "I hate not talking to you. You're the only thing I have to hold on to right now."

"Literally."

Zuko gave a half-hearted laugh. Even after part of the burden had been lifted off of his shoulders by their reconciliation, Mai could see that he was still exhausted, still worried. But there was little she could do to address his immediate issues, so she simply held him, watching the sky darken outside and wondering what would come of it all.

* * *

"_You thought it was a good idea to put a mentally unstable girl back in a cell with a father who abused her? Why am I not surprised?_"

"_I didn't know about the abuse until after it happened!_"

"_So that makes it okay? You were fine with Azula seducing __**your father**__? No red flags there_?"

"_Azula's twisted methods were none of my business! I was worried about __**my mother,**__ the exact same way you would have been if it was you!_"

"_Don't you dare try to tell me what I would have done, Zuko_!"

Katara had accosted Zuko seemingly the second they had come back to the palace, and the shouting match had quickly erupted. Aang, caught in the middle of all of it, would normally have attempted to stop it. But even in a room where thought was made nigh impossible by the yelling of his two friends, Aang was absorbed in the sickly wash of a feeling he hadn't experienced in a while.

Ever since he had defeated Ozai and helped to restore the world to a relatively more peaceful state, Aang had been more at ease with himself. With his friends at his side and the war behind him, he no longer felt the intense burden of guilt, the feeling that he was responsible for the massacre of his people. Every now and then, at seemingly random moments, he would remember Gyatso and his childhood friends, and guilt would tingle at the back of his mind.

But now? This was guilt. It might not have been as intense as that he had felt before, but going a long time without made it feel a hundred times more potent. He knew that Katara would fervently deny it if he brought it up, but the idea lodged poisonously in his head.

This was his fault.

Aang had felt comfortable in his decision to leave Ozai alive. No matter how wicked or vicious a life, that life deserved the chance to redeem itself. And Ozai had been stripped of his bending and locked away where he could never hurt anyone again.

Except he had.

By sparing Ozai's life, Aang had inadvertently brought about this outcome. It was his fault that Azula had been exposed to something she never should have. Why hadn't he thought of the potential harm? Why hadn't he had more foresight? What good could come of leaving such a man alive?

Aang tried to focus on his teachings, on the gentle words of Monk Gyatso in the back of his mind. _All life is sacred, and people deserve a second chance_… It helped, but only a little, to imagine his beloved mentor sitting there beside him.

"Zuko. Katara. Stop it. _Stop it_!"

With the introduction of a third voice into their shouting match, both Zuko and Katara trailed off and turned in Aang's direction. They were glaring, clearly eager to resume their argument without interruption. Aang held up his hands in a feeble gesture of placation.

"This is getting us nowhere. Katara, don't attack him. Look, why don't we—let's all sit down, and we can just talk about it. No more screaming, okay?"

"Fine," Katara said, seating herself beside Aang and staring pointedly at Zuko until he took a seat too. The abrupt silence was awkward when compared with the shouting that had, just moments before, filled the room. Aang took a deep breath.

"Okay, Zuko. Start from the beginning."

An agonized look crossed Zuko's face. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then appeared to find his courage; the next time he opened it, words came out.

"I visited Ozai in prison to see if I could get any information from him about my mother, but I didn't have any luck. I thought—I thought that Azula would be able to get it. He always loved Azula." Zuko's eyes widened as if he realized what he had just said. The words stuck in his throat.

"Go on," Aang encouraged.

"So—I visited Azula and told her we could make a deal. If she got the information from Ozai, I would do something for her. But…I didn't realize what…methods she would choose. I agreed to bring her back to the palace, and it was only then when I realized what she was going to do."

"So it was too late to stop it? Is that what you're saying?" Katara asked, anger still clear in every line of her face. Aang reached out to rest his hand on her arm, but she shook it off.

"No! I'm not trying to say that!" Zuko seemed on the verge of shouting again when Aang caught his eye. "I know it was a mistake, Katara. I just wanted the information about my mother. I was blind. But one thing I still don't understand is why Azula would volunteer, after Ozai-?"

"She thought she could withstand it," Katara said dully. "She said so to me. She wanted to use it against him, or prove she was strong enough, something like that. I think she just wanted to overcome her fears, and instead…"

"Instead it brought them on again," Zuko finished. He shook his head slowly. "Damn. If only I'd have understood that. I wish I'd known then what I know now."

"There's no point wishing that, Zuko," Aang said, breaking in for the first time. "You called us here because you wanted us to help Azula. That's what we need to be focusing on."

"It would have been _easier_ if we had known everything up front," Katara said pointedly. Zuko lowered his eyes, looking ashamed. Before Aang had a chance to intervene, Katara kept speaking. "You know, Zuko, what really bothers me is that you lied to us. You called us from the Earth Kingdom just to help you with Azula and didn't bother giving us crucial information. Did you want us to hear it from your sister's mouth?"

"I can barely live with myself right now, Katara!" Zuko burst out, rising from his chair. "You don't know the things that have been running through my head, the images—I haven't slept in days! I've been sick with the thought that it was me who did it to my sister! How could I tell my friends when I can't even live with myself? I thought you might never look at me again!"

"Maybe I won't." Katara rose as well, sparing only a final, angry glance for Zuko before she disappeared out of the room, closing the door behind her with a snap. When she was gone, Zuko crumpled into his chair, looking completely crushed.

"She just needs some time to think," Aang said. He would go after Katara, try to calm her down, but right now it was Zuko who needed help. "I don't think she means it."

"It doesn't matter," Zuko said, his voice muffled by his hands, pressed to his face. "I deserve it. I don't deserve you or Katara. Forget Ozai. _I'm _the monster."

* * *

Why couldn't they leave her alone?

Almost immediately after telling Katara her truth, Azula regretted doing so. Telling people secrets, giving people information about oneself, sharing emotions—it was equivalent to putting a knife in someone's hand and closing your eyes. Even if people promised not to share the secrets, even if they promised not to misuse the information, they would. They always would. Azula had learned that the hard way.

And so the sheer idiocy of sharing her woes with an enemy, with the girl who had chained her down at that last battle, made Azula furious with herself. Telling the water peasant the information Zuko had withheld was one thing, but showing exactly how damaged she was was entirely another. All of this, Azula thought with a grim certainty, would come back to haunt her.

She strode back and forth and back and forth inside her cell until the walls seemed to close in on her. If she fell asleep, she would have more nightmares. It was difficult enough for her to keep her father's face and voice and scent and touch from her mind while she was awake; she closed her eyes and visions swept over her. She didn't know what had made this time worse than all the others. Perhaps it was because it had been so long. Perhaps it was because Zuko was involved.

Zuko.

She would be happy to never see him again. Azula was tired, so tired. Zuko would come and yell at her, and she would have to put on her mask and taunt him. He said he wanted to help her. Azula didn't buy that for a second. He just wanted to use her. Zuko had never cared about her. Why should he? Familial ties didn't seem to mean much to any of them anymore. Ursa had disappeared. Ozai had taken his daughter to bed. Zuko and Azula had tried to kill each other.

Azula would have been happier if Zuko stayed away. It was all his fault, all of this. It was very easy to blame him, even when she knew the guilt did not lie in one place. On occasion it was better to leave things simple instead of deconstructing them. She liked blaming Zuko. She liked hating Zuko. It was easier to tell herself that he was her enemy than to confront whatever their relationship actually had become.

It was to her horror when, just the day after the water peasant's visit, the orderlies and her doctors came to Azula's cell, declaring that she had another visitor.

"What? No. Send them away. I don't want to see anyone. I don't want—_let go_ of me!"

"Unfortunately, Princess, I lack the authority to send him away," her doctor, Takumi, said. He watched while the guards wrestled to get Azula into her restraints. They had taken her by surprise, or she probably would have burned one of them already. "Truth be told, I'd rather you not have visitors today either."

_Lack the authority_…? Azula knew what that meant. The last person she wanted to see was coming back, after he had already taken everything that he could possibly take away from her. She didn't want to see Zuko, now or ever, and in her position there was only one thing she could do.

"I'm not going! I'm not going! I'm not!"

The unlucky orderly who happened to be standing directly in the line of fire cried out as the princess breathed a tongue of blue flame. His clothes singed and skin already blistering, he was forced to leap backward as Azula let her breath crackle with heat again and again.

Too soon she had to stop to take a breath, and the other orderly was well-trained enough to take advantage of the situation. A leather-gloved hand was in Azula's mouth, forcing her jaws apart, and the other hand stuffed a familiar metal plate in between her lips. Azula fought, trying to bite, but she couldn't build up any force. Too soon the hands were gone and the gag was firmly in place, filling her mouth with the taste of flame repellent. It was horrid and humiliating and Azula ground her gums against the metal, hoping to draw blood.

"Bring her along," Takumi said, and the orderly who hadn't been burned obeyed, steering Azula out into the hall like an animal.

They left her in the holding cell, chained to the chair. It was a cloudy morning, and the tiny window far up on the wall was barely letting in any light at all. Azula hung her head, let her hair fall over her shoulders, and released her emotion in short, sharp gasps and a few tears down her cheeks. Even as she cried, she berated herself for her weakness, for being a sniveling little wretch who didn't even have the courage to end her own life.

_It's all right, darling. Sometimes it helps to cry._

With the gag in her mouth, Azula couldn't speak back to the specter of her mother. It made no logical sense that their conversations should obey ordinary rules, but somehow Ursa never replied to Azula's immediate thoughts, no matter how loud they were.

_You've been strong for so long, and I'm so proud of you for that. It's okay now. I'm here for you, now and forever._

Her hallucinations of her mother were somehow even more painful to Azula than imagining all the things Ozai had done to her. As much as she wanted to spite the woman and hold back her tears, Azula could not help but let them continue to flow from her eyes. If only Ursa was actually standing there—it was so much harder to ignore a voice from her own head.

So Azula slumped down, letting the words of the mother she imagined stifle her with false promises and false love. She couldn't run away, from this or from anything. Zuko would come and take what he wanted, and Ozai had already taken everything he could, and Azula was left with nothing but a heart made of spite and the ghost of a mother who had vanished long ago.

* * *

It was going to be different today.

Zuko had not bothered with his Fire Lord regalia. He didn't want to lord his power over Azula or forcibly remind her of their father. More simple clothing would more than suffice, and it was definitely more comfortable during the brief flight to the asylum on Appa.

Katara was still hardly speaking to Zuko, but she had agreed to accompany him and Aang. Zuko wondered if it was because she was actually worried about Azula or because she was worried about the lies he might tell her if she didn't come. It was probably some combination of the two, but Zuko wasn't worried about ulterior motives. It meant the world to have them both at his side.

The morning had brought with it light and optimism, as it always did. Zuko's worries always seemed farther away from him when the sun rose and the fire inside of him flared. It did not hurt, either, that the previous night had been the first in a long time when he had gotten a decent amount of sleep. It made all the difference when Mai was next to him, helping to keep the nightmares at bay. Zuko had invited her along that day, but Mai had declined, shaking her head and smiling slightly.

"_Someone has to keep the nobles in line when you're not around_."

The only way to go was _forward_.

With Aang and Katara beside him, Zuko honestly and truly believed that he could find the strength to see his sister again. This visit wasn't going to be about getting information on Ozai, or about interrogating Azula about her past. Zuko was going to make the effort to finally see Azula as something other than an enemy. He would fight through the thorny knots of their past, and maybe together they could find a patch of ground where they stood evenly.

It was what Ursa would have wanted, he believed. It was better to wait and bring her home to a mended family than set out to find her immediately. If Zuko wanted to mend his family, truly try to make it better, he needed to attend to his sister as well as to his mother. Maybe, sometime in the future, he would be able to face his father again as well without losing his temper.

But it would be one step at a time.

With a confidence in his step echoing the renewed confidence in his heart, Zuko walked through the asylum with Aang and Katara at his side. He barely even noticed the unfriendly faces of the orderlies, or that one man appeared to be nursing a severe burn, or that Azula's doctor looked distinctly annoyed to see him.

Katara was reluctant to allow Zuko to go into the cell alone, but Takumi was insistent that more than one guest at a time would be too much stimulation for Azula. And so, his mind caught somewhere between excitement and terror, between hope and despair, Zuko pushed open the door, stepped into the cell, and pulled it closed behind him.

In the sudden dimness and the sudden silence, his newfound optimism seemed laughable, even before he caught sight of his sister.

She raised her head slowly, peering at Zuko from behind the protective barrier that separated them. Even in the shadows, Zuko could make out the red splotches on her cheeks and he realized that she had been crying. The thought made him feel indecent, like he had stumbled on her naked. He knew that, given the choice, Azula would never have chosen to appear that way to him. She was all about masks. Zuko barely even knew where Azula ended and her facades began. Maybe she didn't even know.

"It's…it's Zuko," he said uncertainly. She didn't move, continuing to stare listlessly at him. It was highly reminiscent of their last meeting, almost disturbingly so. Zuko moved closer to the glass. "I've come to listen to you, Azula."

Still nothing. Zuko could feel his heart speeding up. Azula's face, he realized, wasn't just closed off. It was utterly devoid of anything, as if Azula had nothing left. No more games. No more masks. As if she had given up.

And then Zuko saw the unnatural bulge around her mouth and the straps, previously hidden in shadow, that extended around her head.

"Azula-!"

He heaved the cell door behind him open and stormed outside, barely even registering the surprise of everyone from his friends to the asylum staff. Ignoring their cries, Zuko stormed around the perimeter of the cell until he reached the back door. It was unlocked, and in a few seconds he was inside again, closing it behind him. This time, he was on the same side as Azula.

She didn't move to look at him, but Zuko didn't know whether that was out of her own choice or because the straps were restricting her movement. He stepped closer and closer until he was right beside her. He didn't want to touch her, afraid of making her jump. His fingers reached tentatively for the buckle of her gag. They touched the metal and then Zuko drew them backwards, suddenly afraid. What if she became suddenly vicious? What if she burned or tried to bite his fingers off?

A moment later and he was furious with himself. All his high-minded ideals for mending the relationship, and he couldn't even take as basic a step as removing Azula's gag? His anger lent his hands swiftness, and in an instant he had unbuckled and tossed aside the contraption. In his haste, a puddle of drool slipped from Azula's lips and landed in her lap.

It was shameful. Again, Zuko had the sense that he was seeing something indecent. The thought was magnified when Azula's head slumped forward. She wasn't even putting in the effort of resisting the bonds enough to sit up straight. Her muscles were slack. A truer and more heart-wrenching surrender Zuko had never seen. Was this really his prideful sister, the one who had taunted him time after time, flung insults and deadlier things at him, stood at the top of the world and loved the view?

"Go away," she said, her voice still poisonous but lacking force. "You've done enough."

"I'm not leaving." Zuko hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder. When she didn't react, he reached his other arm around her in an awkward embrace, half-squatting to be on level with the chair. Azula unexpectedly allowed her head to sink down onto his shoulder, something Zuko definitely had not expected. "I'm not leaving again. I don't care about Mother right now. I don't care about Father. I'm here for you, Azula. I'm your brother, and I know I haven't acted like it."

"Family doesn't matter," Azula said faintly. "It's a lie."

"Maybe it was to Ozai, Azula, but it isn't to me." Zuko's voice shook with force. "I'm here. I'm real. I want to talk to you. I want to listen to you. I'm not going to use you again. You are—you're important to me. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to help you. I…I love you, Azula." The words were difficult to say, and Zuko expected them to be thrown back at him the instant they left his mouth. They were the kind of thing Azula had always laughed at. But if she laughed at his sincerity, so be it.

Perhaps it was seeing the new, fragile creature before him. Perhaps it was the new revelations about Azula's childhood, or lack thereof. Perhaps it was even a new empathy grown from his relationship with the Avatar and being the ruler of an entire nation. But Zuko truly believed that he could come to love Azula again, that maybe their relationship could be something, if not ideal, then at least not dysfunctional. He imagined his sister beside him at the palace, her mind healthy again, dressed in the colors of the Fire Nation and dealing with politics with a skill he utterly lacked. He imagined Azula bending, perhaps even teaching others, honing the skill she took pride in. Maybe someday his friends would forgive her as well.

They were all pipe dreams, Zuko knew. But if his uncle was there, Iroh would surely tell Zuko to believe in the potential of hope. If he didn't believe in a bright future, maybe it wouldn't come to be. With Azula in this state, Zuko couldn't afford to be pessimistic.

And maybe, not too distantly in the future, Zuko and Azula could travel together across the world and find Ursa, and their newly recreated family would be together again. Different, yes, but beautiful. And there would be no more bargains, no more bets, no more using each other for leverage, just love and support and all the things that were supposed to go with a family.

He was being foolish, but Zuko could not help but feel overwhelming emotion at the thought. The possibilities of a healthy Azula, a redeemed Azula, were both painful and beautiful.

Her lips were moving. Zuko was cast out of his thoughts to look at his sister, his real sister. She was not the glamorized image of his fantasy, but not entirely a pitiful creature either. Her eyes had regained some of their luster, and when she smiled, her sunken cheeks did not look quite as hideous.

She spoke.

"I love you too, Father."


End file.
